Badass Bella
by NitnatRide
Summary: AH Bella's not shy or clumsy. She's confident, damn good at sports and she knows it. She's back at Forks with her dad, and meets the Cullens. You can guess what happens...LOVE IS IN THE AIR!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Proving a point**

**Bella's POV**

I love my bike. Ever since my parents, Renee and Charlie, bought it for me three years ago, I've got on it to go everywhere. DK Cygnus BMX 09. I once made a twenty-mile journey on this baby. And I loved every minute of it; you're not cooped up inside some contraption mis-named as a "safety cage". They got the cage bit right. On a bike you can feel the mechanisms moving; you can feel your legs burning with the exertion, but you keep going; you can feel the wind stroking through your hair. And then you jump. And the feeling of flying…indescribable. The sound of the frame scraping along some random metal bar…well, okay; that isn't so great. But hey, you should see people's faces when they see what I am capable of on this baby.

I love so many sports: BMX, snowboarding, tennis, basketball, dancing (mainly hip-hop), skateboarding, ice-skating, swimming, surfing, wind-surfing…I think that's it. I can never even remember myself. It's pretty ridiculous, that's what my parents say.

My name is Isabella Swan, but everyone calls me Bella. It's so much nicer. Anyway, I've lived with my mom, Renee, in Phoenix, Arizona, since my parents split up when I was ten. I'm now seventeen, but my mom has a new boyfriend, Phil. So I decided that it was time to give the happy couple a bit of space. I suggested that I went to Forks, Washington, a small, raining town where my dad lives. They both agreed, and my dad was secretly overjoyed; he tries to act calm, but sometimes his voice just betrays him. Plus, he hasn't seen me in a year and a half.

So, whilst most of my snow-sport stuff was at my dad's (it's never cold enough in Arizona), I still needed to bring my water-sport and city-sport gear: I bet there are good skating places somewhere in Forks, and my dad has told me there are a few places where you can get to the sea in the surrounding areas. I used to think Forks was boring, but I think I could like it here. As long as I can do my sports, whilst enjoying the amazing landscape around, I'm happy.

So, considering I told you before that I would go anywhere on my bike, what's the bet that I'm on my Cygnus right now, cycling, flipping, spinning, flying, and grinding (the non-dirty version) to Forks High?

And what's the bet that something _**amazing**_ happens on the way there?

Trust me; I don't see it coming either…

**Edward's POV**

The summer holidays have gone. Where? I have no freakin' idea. It was fun while it lasted though; late-night beach parties, game after game of basketball with my brother, sister and our friends, Jasper and Rosalie Hale. Rosalie is Emmett's girlfriend, and Emmett is my older brother. Jasper is Alice's, my little sister, and those two are inseparable. I always leave them alone at parties, knowing that they'll be making out within minutes. Me? No girlfriend. Sure, I've got loads of girls chasing after me. I'm going to sound cocky, but I know I'm pretty damn hot, and loads of people say I'm really kind and gentlemanly. But I'm waiting for _**her**_, you know? The one who I think I won't be able to live without.

So I'm driving my Volvo back to Forks High, with my brother and sister laughing along with me about the embarrassing stories of ourselves and other people over the summer. I stop in a little lay-by, as is my family's daily tradition, so we can gaze at the surrounding scenery. Evergreen trees smother the slopes, their viridian reflected by the rare sun that kisses Forks presently.

In the usual tranquillity of this personal paradise, a sound reaches my ears that I haven't heard much around here. Something moving fast over the ground, some mechanical clicking sound, and an angel's voice humming and laughing. I turn my head to the source, and freeze. An angel, in black jeans, a hot pink top, and black and white hoodie with matrix lines on, is floating towards us, her mahogany waves streaming behind her like melted chocolate, her matching eyes entire vats of the sinful substance. Her glistening smile is enough to blind the sun, which is struggling in vain to match her radiance. But she isn't travelling on wings. She's on something even better…a DK Cygnus. Oh, my God. I'm in love. God, look at those _**legs**_.

"Hey, um, are you guys lost?" Oh, jeez, I'm screwed. Her freakin' _**voice**_!

"Nah, it's just a family tradition to stop here every day before school," Alice saves me from embarrassment by answering for us all.

"Oh, school? You guys go to Forks High?"

"Sure thing. We're the new kids from Alaska," Emmett replies. "I'm Emmett Cullen, this is my baby sister, Alice Cullen, and goldfish over there is my little brother, Edward Cullen."

I snap my mouth shut and glare at Emmett, trying not to let it drop open again when the angel giggles quietly.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Bella Swan." Bella. Such a beautiful name. It fits such a beautiful, stunning, amazing –

"Wait, _**Swan**_?" Alice interrupts my train of thought (good thing too). "Oh, my God. You're Chief Charlie Swan's daughter, aren't you?"

"Oh, jeez, has he been talking about me again?" Bella complains.

"Only the good things," Emmett insists.

"Hold on a sec," I say finally.

"Ah, so you do know how to speak," she jokes, and I try my hardest not to blush and to ignore the snickers coming from my siblings.

"Is that…a DK Cygnus?"

She pauses, then grins wider. "You know you're bikes. I'm impressed, Copper Curls. Damn straight, it's a Cygnus." She holds her fist out and I tap it with my own, forcing myself not to jump when I feel shocks.

"I've heard you guys are pretty fast with wheels," she continues. "Care for a race?" I gape at her again, but she carries on. "First one to Forks High gets ten bucks from the other?"

Emmett's bass guffaw bounces off the surrounding trees, and I smirk at Bella, suddenly my confidence returning (about freakin' time). I hold out my hand, still desperate to feel her skin on mine again. She takes it, but instead of withdrawing immediately, she holds it firmly, staring directly into my eyes, as if challenging me, or reading my mind. I don't dare pull back, nor do I have the inclination to, and I drown, willingly, in the deep bottomless pits, like a moth staring at a flame. Suddenly, she smirks at me, glancing down at our connected hands…and she _**winks**_ at me. I swallow loudly – oh, God; she knows – and she finally releases me. She tells us that she'll follow once we've set off, so we climb into my Volvo again. I pause behind the wheel, resting my head on it, making sure I won't hit the horn. As soon as the doors are closed, Alice and Emmett are cheering and patting me on the back.

"Shut up, guys! She'll hear you!"

"I think she already knows!" Alice laughs. "Awww…I'm proud of you, big bro."

"Jeez," I groan, turning to Emmett. "She's the most amazing creature I've ever met, and I've known her for all of three freakin' minutes! God, what's wrong with me, Em?"

He claps a hand on my shoulder in a brotherly gesture and grins. "Nothing. You're in love, little brother, and from the way she was looking at you, she doesn't mind, to say the least."

"Yeah, Edward. Just start the car so we can kick her ass. I bet she'll be really impressed if you beat her. In fact, I bet she's really impressed already, and thinking really positive thoughts…"

**Bella's POV**

Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! He's just so…ugh! God, his hair! I freakin' _**adore**_ his hair! I just want to run my fingers through it forever. Amazingly red, almost bronze; thick, curly locks. Oh, God, his eyes! I can just stare into those emeralds and get lost. They're greener than the trees in Forks, which is quite an achievement. He even has a Volvo C30. Fucking hell. I'm head-over-heels and I've only just met the guy. Jeez, he must think I'm a slut after my little stunt back there. I freakin' _**winked**_ at him! Thanks, Horny Bella, for making a complete twat out of me. God, he looked really uncomfortable back there. Fantastic, B; you've just ruined your originally anorexic chances with him by trying to be a girl. That's why you should stick to your sports. Ah, speaking of which, I have Cullen-arses to seriously kick.

I spot them about a hundred metres ahead, them on the road, me trying my luck through the woods. I grin, and speed up, realising we're just reaching the inner areas of the town. That means that there will be more things for me to do tricks off. Hmmm…I wonder if Edward will be impressed. Oh, for God's sake, shut up and win.

I force my legs to power faster, my tires sort of fizzing against the now-present tarmac, and I realise we are near the school. They would beat me if I only followed behind, which is why I'm not going to follow behind. Following has never been my forte. So I swerve rapidly down the pedestrian stairs, leaping up and twisting, scraping the centre of my frame down the hand-rail to maintain my speed. I jump off just before the rail ends, and when I come back up the other side, I'm just in front of the Cullens' Volvo, but they would still beat me. So I decide to show off a bit, and leap over their bonnet, back into the forest. I catch a glimpse of their stunned faces at my daring stunt, and I smirk to myself.

_There's plenty more where that came from, gentlemen,_ I think. _Oh, and you too, of course, Alice_.

**Edward's POV**

"Did you see that? Did you freakin' _**see**_ that? She's incredible!"

"Wow, Eddie; I never knew your voice could go that high," Emmett drawls dryly, mildly irritated – mostly amused – by my incessant worship of the denim-and-Nike clad goddess on the Cygnus.

"Don't call me Eddie," I shoot back, more out of reflex than of actual present annoyance of the ghastly nickname – I'm paying much more attention to Bella.

"C'mon, baby bro," Emmett continues. "You're losing ten bucks."

"Oh, shit, yeah," I mutter, hauling the car into gear and spin-wheeling back down the road, way too fast obviously.

We round a corner, just two short corners away from the entrance to Forks High's parking lot, and Bella is nowhere in sight. I can't stop the confident grin from splitting my lips, and we all cheer as I pull into the parking lot. My angel is still nowhere to be seen, and so we start looking around for her whilst pulling up to our usual parking space. All cheering and grinning cease as we see Bella, on that fucking Cygnus, icepick-standing on the edge of the wall of the raised hedge, right in front of our usual space, a devilishly tempting smirk on her face.

I pull into our usual parking space, still staring open-mouthed at her, and getting ready to leap out of the car and praise her to the stars. Before I can do that, she leaps down gracefully from her spot, locks her Cygnus around one of the bike supports in front of us and walks over to us. Instead of stopping outside the car like I think she will, she walks right past, sticking a Post-It to the windscreen. Once she is passed (and I've gotten out of my Bella-induced stupor) I scramble out of the Volvo, snatching up the Post-It. I laugh out loud when I read it, and Emmett and Alice do the same when I hand it to them.

It says:

_Don't worry about the money; I was just proving a point._

**Hey, everyone. I hope you like this story. I actually have no idea where this is really going. There isn't going to be a lot of action, but plenty of romance and probably at least one lemon. Never written one before, but I hope it'll be okay. If you don't like the sound of this story, don't read it. Life's too short to read things you don't like. But if anyone could give me some help with maybe how this could be a little more action-y it might help. Thanks,**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


	2. First Day

**Chapter 2: First day**

**Bella's POV**

After allowing myself a few seconds of smugness, I make my way to the school reception to get my timetable. The woman in charge is nice enough, welcoming me in an overly-enthusiastic and -friendly way that suggests she wants to get in Chief Swan's good books by babying his daughter. Hiding a smirk at the frequency of that situation, I read through my timetable quickly, making my way to the appropriate classroom for homeroom **(don't know if that's the right word to use; I'm British, not American, so I hope 'homeroom' is the same as 'registration')**.

As soon as I enter the room, the buzz of conversation lulls, most of the guys halting mid-sentence to stare at me. Okay, I'm not trying to sound arrogant or anything, but I know I'm fairly good-looking for a girl, even if I dress like a guy. My attitude helps with the attractiveness; most guys nowadays like feisty girls, and they can't deny that I am definitely a feisty girl, indicated by the way I carry myself confidently.

"Hey, babe." The deep, husky voice gets me curious; it'll be interesting to see how a guy – probably cocky as anything due to the extreme confidence in his voice – will react when I reject him. I turn to the source, seeing a group of muscular – and aware of it – Native American guys, who are, I'll admit, pretty good-looking. Nothing to Edward, of course. Wait – what? Ugh, you didn't hear me say that. Anyway, the majority are kind of standing or seated, almost flanking one certain guy. The biggest guy, with the biggest muscles, the biggest smile, and hence the biggest ego. This guy looks me up and down, his eyes as dark as his hair, but obviously less spiked than it, rake down my body in a way that makes me feel like a dirty piece of meat; just because I act confident doesn't mean I'm a slut. In fact, I hate sluts.

"My name's Jacob Black," the bigger kid – probably the leader of this little posse – says. "Call me Jake." He winks at me and I have to stop myself from shuddering.

"Huh," I reply simply. Gesturing to his hair, I say, "And I thought it would be Toilet-Brush."

Jacob Black blinks. He stares down at me, as if unable to comprehend what I have just said to him. Odds are, he can't understand, because he's probably one of those jocks who have more anabolic steroids than brains. Fury just starts to dawn in his eyes, and I take that as my cue to leave, strutting past him and the others, only looking back at them to call over my shoulder. "You've got no chance, Toilet-Brush."

The room is scarily silent, but I walk over to a girl who is staring up at me with wonder and awe and "my hero" written in her dark brown eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. Her completely black, fairly-short, fairly straight hair shines almost as bright as her smile, and she gives me the impression that she's usually the quiet one. I sit down next to her and smile. She leans closer, the grin not leaving her face, and whispers,

"I've always wanted that arsehole to be put in his place. He's way too scary and rough with girls."

I wink at her, letting her know that I'd be putting him in his place for a while after today. Toilet-Brush and his friends look like they're about to come over here and I tense up, not wanting to fight but knowing when to defend myself, but the teacher then comes in, ushering us all to our seats and glaring at the Toilet-Brush Gang. They're obviously the bad-boys of the school, the ones who go out of their way to disrupt lessons. See, even though I'm a tomboy and like extreme sports and things like that, I still respect the importance of a good education, and I always have a good laugh at those who don't; people like Toilet-Brush often make complete fools of themselves when they think they're trying to be cool.

The teacher calls out our names in the register, then announces that we have a new student in the class. Insert eye roll here; I mentally cringe. I hate introducing myself to a new class, not because I'm scared – oh, no, never – but because it's so corny. It's like being in kindergarten. You know, like, "Okay, children, now we're going to have circle time, and we're going to go round the circle, passing Harry the Hamster to the next person along so they can tell us a bit about themselves. Remember; you can only speak if you're holding Harry."

Psh, yeah right, like I ever got involved in that kind of thing.

Anyway, as I'm called, I get out of my seat next to the shy, dark-haired girl who I think answered when the teacher – Mr Banner, he called himself – called out for Angela. So I go up to the front, introducing myself – probably redundant as I'm sure my dad has already told the whole town of my arrival – and telling them I've moved from Phoenix. When I get to the end, I have to hold my tongue to prevent myself from saying something to cease all the hungry stares I receive from the male side of the class. I hate being looked at like a piece of meat. That's one of the reasons why I decided to defect sex-wise.

Well, not really defected, because that would be a sex-change – and I'm never getting one of those. I just do stuff boys would usually do rather than girls. The other reason why I've changed; I love the stuff boys do that girls don't usually.

Okay, yeah; there is another reason why I'm a tomboy. But it's not like I'm going to tell _**you**_. Not yet anyway; let me see if I can trust you first.

"Phoenix, huh?" I turn towards Angela again as she takes the first step in general conversation with the new girl. I smile at her for her effort, and nod in affirmation of her question.

"Wow," she continues. "Forks must be a big change for you then, what with the significant lack of sun, frequent rainfall and actual ice in winter."

"Yeah," I agree, "but I used to come here every summer to stay with my dad, and even then, there was barely any sun, so I've kind of got used to the weather. All except the ice, but I guess I'm lucky I'm not a klutz. My cousin's constantly tripping over air, and I feel sorry for her."

"Really?" A new voice joins in; a cute- but dull-looking blond boy. "Why do you feel sorry? Loads of people are like that." His tone isn't accusatory, just curious, and I feel thrilled that people here are actually interested in what I have to say, rather than because I look good.

"Well, I'm a really big tomboy, and I'm forever doing any sports I can. I've got city sport gear, like for skateboarding or roller-blading or BMX-ing, and I don't have a car or anything because I almost anywhere on my DK Cygnus. That's a pro BMX bike," I add after seeing their confused expressions. "I've got all the stuff like that here, 'cos that stuff works in a town as well as a city. But I've also brought stuff like my snowboard and ice-skates – definitely gonna make use of those in the winter – my surfboard and wind-surfboard, my tennis racket, my basketball, et cetera. Only thing I don't have is a wetsuit for my surf gear; I never needed it in Arizona, because it was always warm enough to just go in my bikini."

The blond boy spaces out for a bit, probably imagining me in a bikini, before replying. "Well, hey, that's no problem; my mom and I run a sports shop here in Forks. We sell wetsuits too, so you can pop in any time and get one."

Wow, I'm on a roll with the "make friends" thing. "Great! That's really good. Thanks, um…" I trail off, hinting that I don't know his name.

"Oh, yeah," he holds out his hand to shake mine. "Hey, I'm Mike Newton. You don't need to tell me who you are; you're dad's a regular at our sports shop for fishing gear, and he hasn't once shut up about you coming here."

I laugh at the familiarity of my dad; can't contain good news, and a penchant for fishing. "All good things, I hope?"

"Apparently there isn't anything bad about you, and I'm starting to agree with that statement now that I've met you." Mike flashes me a smile, which I return. I hope I don't lead him on though; he's sweet and everything, and I like to hear sentences like that said to me, but I can see he might not be the best intellect. Not like Edward; he's got the looks of a model _**and**_ the air of someone with aptitude.

_What the hell? Shut up about Edward! You've obviously got no chance with him. He probably likes plastic Barbies with no brains._

He seems like a really nice guy though, I tell myself. He seemed to appreciate you when you met in the forest. And he knows his bikes. Swoon!

_Oh, get a grip; you're turning into a girl._

Oh, Heaven forbid that I ever turn into a _**girl**_, my subconscious retorts. That's the worst kind of organism on the planet.

Okay, having an argument with yourself is never a good sign.

Anyway, I spend the rest of homeroom talking with Mike and Angela, both of them appreciating what I did to Toilet Brush. Apparently he's the school bully, preying off most of the female population here, simply because he thinks he can. It's rumoured that those who don't bow before his feet immediately end up in hospital with their virtue either stolen or intact; it merely depended on their gender.

"Hmm," I frown over at the Toilet Brush gang, eyeing up the leader's muscles. I wouldn't put the rumour past him. "Thanks for the heads-up; after today, I'll steer clear of him, because even though I like extreme sports, I have no intention of ending up in hospital for any reason."

"Hey," Angela smiles, "friends have got to look out for each other, right?"

I grin back. "Exactly."

But there's a tightness in Angela's eyes that I understand immediately; I've always had this way of reading people, and can be fairly understanding and supportive for a sporty tomboy. My grin disappears quickly, and I lean towards her so Mike – who has turned away from us for now to speak to other guys – doesn't overhear.

"Did he try anything with you?"

As all people in this class are seniors, Toilet Brush has had another year to wreak havoc among the unsuspecting women of Forks High without my knowledge. **(I think there are only two years in American High School. Correct me if I'm wrong; I only know of juniors and seniors)** My guess is Angela is one of those.

My guess is right; for the briefest of moments, a look of terror crosses her face, as if she's remembering something. I let her mull through those thoughts, gathering herself before she answers as quietly as I had asked, but ten times the speed.

"Last year, I came here halfway through the year. He welcomed me with open arms, being all nice, kind, gentlemanly, that kind of thing. Anyway, within the first few weeks I was here, we were a couple, but only two weeks after that, and he was pressuring me about having sex with him. He kept doing stuff like groping me when we were alone in my room, and it always made me feel uncomfortable. **(I know what this is like people. It's really not nice).**

"Then one night, when we were at mine and both my parents were out, he told me he'd had enough. He said either we had sex then and there or he'd leave me. He was the best guy I'd ever met – apart from the obvious – but I didn't feel ready to give myself to him. Once he realised I wasn't giving my virginity to him willingly, he –"

She stops herself there, seeming to gather her sense but lose her confidence. She doesn't need to continue though.

Shocked by her story and outraged at the fact that this monster is roaming the corridors of a school, I ask another question. "Have you told the police?"

She looks down, pain in her eyes, and shakes her head slowly, almost shamefully. "He told me if I said anything to anyone, he'd do the same thing to my mom and my friends."

Not sure what else to do, I tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. "Angela, that's what the police are for, so he can't do that. But I understand somehow. I'm really honoured by your confidence and trust in me if he threatened you with that." I bite my lip, preparing myself for something. "Angela? You know, I could tell my dad about this, just not mention your name or anything. If you did have to appear in court, I could ask my dad to hold your identity, like not have you present in the courtroom and distort your voice when you answer questions. I understand if you don't, and I'd keep my promise if that's the case, but would you want me to do that for you?"

She considers it. I can see she does, as her eyes fade out slightly. I know she's thinking that he won't hurt anyone else like that again, and she certainly looks like the kind of person who would think of someone else before herself. The thought is so like me I know immediately that, whatever her decision, we'll get along no problem.

Movement catches my eye, and I see Angela sitting towards me again, misery in her eyes again. I know the answer before she speaks.

"Thank you," she whispers, not meeting my eyes, "but no. It's a great idea, but people say he's given the police the slip before on less severe crimes, so, no offense to your dad, but I don't think others would be safe, even with the witness protection."

"Hey," I lay my hand on her shoulder again, speak softly and hopefully sympathetically. Thankfully she looks up, meeting my eyes again. "It's okay. I understand, and I won't tell anyone until you're ready. I think he should be locked up, but you're the key to that. I'm not going to keep asking you – that would be incredibly insensitive of me – but I just want you to know that I'm always open and ready to talk when you are."

A smile creeps onto her face, turning up the corners of her mouth and making her dark eyes shine brighter than the polished black plastic of the frames of her glasses. She begins to lift her arms, and I do the same, already knowing what she was silently asking for. We encase each other in our emotions, sharing my empathy and sympathy with her and her pain and fear with me.

There are hugs with some people that make you feel warmer than others. Those special people are the people we choose to label "best friends".

Huh, the first few minutes of my first day and I already have a best friend. I'm going to like Forks.

Luckily, I have my first lesson, English Literature, with Angela too. It turns out we both have a preference of romantic novels by such authors as Austen and the Brontë sisters. We spent most of the lesson enjoying the set discussion/debate on Mr Darcy's character in Pride and Prejudice. My first homework I receive from my new school is to creatively write a diary entry of Mr Darcy, writing about his thoughts after his first marriage proposal had been rejected by Elizabeth. We could use the kind of language people would use today. How great is that? I _**love**_ creative writing.

Anyway, Angela and I have to separate for second lesson; she has Art and Photography but I have Sport. Awesome lesson number two; we have basketball, and everyone's really amazed by my skill and enjoyment. Apparently my dear old dad hasn't spread rumours around about my sporty character. Whoa, people are going to be in for a shock. The Newton boy keeps staring at my arse though, which is really annoying considering taking Sport makes it compulsory for students to wear ridiculously short shorts.

Third lesson: Physics. Relatively boring (get it? _**Relatively**_ boring? Like the Theory of Relativity? Oh, never mind). I would have enjoyed it, had I not done refraction of a light ray in 11th Grade…and 10th…and 9th. You get the idea.

Psychology is interesting and enjoyable for fourth lesson, but then it usually is. Especially when you're looking at why people fall in love and that kind of thing. **(I might be doing that next year! Sounds so cool! The psychology thing, not the falling-in-love thing XD)** Obviously it was the girls who are most interested in this kind of thing rather than the guys. The girls probably want to make some kind of love potion of all the hormones involved or something, but I'm just interested because of all the science involved when, for us, it's all natural and mapped out for us really. I find that fascinating.

Finally the bell sounds for lunch, and even those which are enthralled with the science of love are out of their seats in a matter of seconds. I dodge my way through the mass of writhing bodies in the corridor, feeling slightly claustrophobic as I make my way to my locker. Glancing at my timetable for the code, I enter it through the dial on my locker. Nothing happens. Frowning, I yank on the handle, cursing myself for being too much of a girl to take up small weight lifting to get a bit more muscle.

A huge fist appears in the corner of my eye out of nowhere, and I flinch out of habit. But it thankfully avoids my face and smashes twice against the locker instead. The door pops open, and I smile as I pull it fully open. I turn towards my saviour whilst putting my books inside and getting the appropriate ones out. My hands freeze as I take in the huge muscular physique, the short brown hair and the dimples either side of his huge grin.

"I had that locker last year," Emmett Cullen informs me.

"Well, hey, thanks," I greet him whilst running my hands through my hair.

He just laughs at my surprise at seeing him. "I never thought _**you'd**_ need help opening a locker, BMX."

"Yeah, me neither. And thanks for the nickname. I'd pick BMX over Babybel any day."

He laughs again, louder this time, which causes a few stares to come our way as his bass guffaw echoes down the corridor.

"No problem, Bella. Hey, I just came to find you to ask if you wanted to sit with me, Alice and Edward." He says his brother's name in such a way that makes me suspicious, and the evil grin doesn't help either.

"Sure, I'm sure the other people I've met today can spare my company for lunchtime."

"Great! I'll wait for you to get your books then I'll take you to the table," Emmett grins again. Seriously, I really doubt that that boy _**ever**_ stops grinning.

When we are walking back to the cafeteria, the sea of students parts before Emmett's hulking figure like he might use any of them as a punching bag any minute. I glance up at him, trying to judge the likelihood of that happening (coming to the conclusion that Emmett is an XXL teddy bear), the boy in question looks down at me, grinning yet again as he realises what I am trying to gage.

We enter the cafeteria, which is fairly small compared to that of my previous school, and Emmett leans over me to the right to take a tray for himself and another for me. He passes my own to me, and I smile at him in thanks before looking around the cafeteria.

One of the two exits to outside picnic benches is directly in front of me whilst the serving hatches are in the wall on the just to my left. The entrance, just behind me, is unfortunately only two-narrow-doors wide, as is the corridor that leads off from it, and I can just picture squeezing myself through the stupidly small space made even more unbearable by the mass of bodies swarmed inside to seek refuge from the infamous icy Forks winters. To the right lies a small hall with modern six-a-side benches in lines dotted around for students to eat and socialise indoors. A countertop effectively separates the serving hatch from this table area, containing two computers used for the fingerprint system of payment for each student to pay for the food they have on their plate. Before the first day of school, each student, including myself, came here to have their fingerprints scanned into the payment system, creating an account for that student. During their school year, students would have to pay money onto that account either online or through paying an amount of cash into a machine in the entrance lobby.

The queue advances, and soon Emmett and I are next to be served. Looking at the menus on top of the hot-counter, I choose the lasagne, wanting to see if it compares to the one I always made back in Phoenix. Emmett and I pay for our meals – Emmett has chosen the beef steak – and Emmett leads us both to a table he apparently knows well. He tells me that he, Alice and Edward regularly sit at this table, and that I'd meet to other people that he predicted would be sitting there today.

Sure enough, I see Edward and Alice seated at a table in the far corner, Edward leaning his back against the wall adjacent to the seat he occupies with Alice sitting diagonally but in the "proper" posture of sitting. Both are having a conversation which includes the two blondes I haven't met yet. One is a girl. A freaking bombshell of a girl. Her golden waves caress her dainty shoulders, her face a picture of complete perfection and her mile-long legs stretching out from a short black skirt underneath the table. The other is a guy, his sunshine curls all messed-up on his head, a pretty cute smile splitting his lips as he listens to the others speaking, mostly remaining silent himself.

Whilst we're still too far away to hear words over the normal cafeteria hubbub, I see Alice lean forward and dish a piece of juicy news to the newcomers. They all look at Edward, impressed yet amused, whilst the poor, gorgeous boy looks embarrassed and annoyed. Because of the position he's sitting in, Edward sees us first, and his face seems to light up when he realises I'm coming to sit with them. A quick burst of red suddenly covers his cheeks and he places a hand down on the table between the babbling and giggling threesome, whispering something, and they all look towards me and Emmett.

Their smiles grow, and they wave at us. I hear Emmett chuckle beside me, and he balances his tray perfectly in one of his massive hands as he raises the other in a similar greeting. This is kind of contradicted when he booms out, "Get out of my seat, Goldfish, before I throw you out of it."

I snicker at his reference to the first name I had been given when being introduced with Edward this morning. Nevertheless, Edward moves without even glaring at his brother at the mention of the insulting name, confirming my opinion that Emmett can use those muscles of his when he wants to.

Whilst Emmett navigates to sit in "his" seat by the wall, sit in the seat between Alice and the ex-model…which just happens to be directly in front of the new seat Edward has chosen. Placing my tray on the table in front of me, I flash a smile to Edward, and his lips slowly, sensually split open, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth tilted in a dead sexy crooked smile. I hope the flood of heat on my face is simply the sun. However I can't claim the warmth…_**further down**_…to be anything else than what I know it to be.

I quickly sit down, trying to cover the _**potential**_ blush with my hair, letting it swish all around me. I could swear I hear someone inhale, as if trying to smell as much as possible of a fragrance – like on those air freshener ads – but they stop before I get a chance to determine the source.

"Hey." I turn my head to my left, making eye contact with the smiling blonde bombshell now sitting opposite Emmett. I smile back at her. "I'm Rosalie, Emmett's girlfriend."

Eyebrows raised, I turn to Emmett, pointing at Rosalie. "You managed to pull _**this**_ runaway model?"

Everyone on the table chuckles, and Emmett winks at me proudly before eye-fucking his partner unashamed. Deciding to avoid being in the crossfire of that now-mutual eye-fucking, I turn towards the cute blonde guy who's leaning casually back in his chair. Obviously this guy is used to being laid back. He raises a hand to me.

"Jasper. Her twin," he points to Rosalie, who is too engrossed with Emmett to notice. "I'm with the pixie."

Edward and Emmett burst into laughter, applauding Jasper as "the pixie" trains her evil glare on him. The effect is lost however when Jasper takes her hand from the middle of the table between his own significantly larger ones, pressing it to his lips whilst staring at her with something close to reverence.

"Awww," Rosalie smiles. "Well done, Jazz."

"So _**that's**_ why her glare never works on you." Emmett sounds like he's just discovered a 90%-efficient alternative to fossil fuels.

Chuckling, Edward picks up his knife and fork, and we all take this as a sign to start our food.

General conversation passes over the table, mostly talking about Emmett's up-coming football match and my victory over the Cullens this morning. Rosalie and Jasper are very impressed that I beat the famous Cullens at a road-race, and the competitors themselves admit to being dumbfounded when they saw me balancing in their space. Then comes the inevitable question.

"So Bella, what do you think to Forks High so far? Who are your new friends, and I know you've made some because you seem like you make friends easily."

I thank Alice for the compliment, then tell them about how I met Angela and Mike, leaving our discussion out of the recount. I decide to drop the bomb at the end, just to test their reactions.

"Jacob Black seems to have taken a shine to me, too."

Edward immediately chokes on his Coke, and everyone on the table stops eating to stare at me, a poorly-concealed mixture of horror and pity on their faces. Edward is the one who gathers enough courage once he calms himself.

"Stay away from him." There's a flatness to his voice, allowing no debate; it's a command. His eyes look as if a storm is whipping my favourite forest around. Intrigued with their response, I feign ignorance to see how much they know.

"Oh? Why is that?"

Sighing as if the world has worn him down, Edward leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The others wait tensely, not wanting to be the one to tell the story. A few minutes pass like this, but eventually Edward leans forward again, looking me straight in the eye, seemingly doing an analysis of some kind. He seems to find what he's looking for, and sighs again, leaning forward and beckoning me to do the same. The others copy our positions automatically.

"Mine, Alice's and Emmett's father is Dr Carlisle Cullen. He works at Forks Hospital. In the last year alone, five girls were taken to A&E with bruises and scratches all over their bodies. Many people think they were beaten up by a new gang in town. They each had slightly ovular bruises on their faces, arms and chests."

"Fists," I conclude.

"Exactly. This backed up the gang theory, but none of the girls would testify. My father suspected something different. So when they were sedated, he checked them over professionally. He noticed all the bruises were more or less the same size."

"They were only given by one person, not a gang," I finish.

He half-smiles. "Cop's daughter, huh? Anyway, he also longer bruises that stretched around the tops of their arms, like they were restrained, either with hands or rope or something. Different-shaped bruises were also near the tops of their thighs."

I nod, understanding his point, and silently revelling in the fact that I don't have to keep Angela's situation completely quiet. "They were raped."

Edward nods solemnly, probably waiting for me to have a mental breakdown in fear and horror, but frowns when he obviously doesn't see me doing so. Jasper understands first and smiles slightly.

"Angela told you, didn't she?" Again, I nod. I guess Angela was one of the girls admitted to Dr Cullen's ward. The others look at me incredulously.

"You got a testimony out of her?" Rosalie is speechless.

"She seems to trust me a huge amount. It may be because I'm Charlie's daughter, and I told her that I could arrange an anonymous testimony in a courtroom, but she said that he's given the police the slip many times before. She said that she'd come to me if she has any sudden bursts of courage though."

Alice nods. "She's right about him giving the police the slip. Dad told us that aside from the bruises, there was no evidence. At all. No DNA, no fingerprints. His fingerprints aren't even on the police system because he's been so careful about even his smaller crimes the police had no reason to get them. Apparently the fucker practically sterilised the girls even of his junk."

"Shit," I curse. "The police can't get a warrant to search him or his property if there isn't any evidence to make him a suspect. That's how he's got away so much."

Emmett sighs. "It doesn't look like he's going to fuck up that routine any time soon. I wish he would though. He deserves to be locked away."

I have Biology with Edward in fifth period, and that goes by in a flash, as we're redoing mitosis stuff I did in Phoenix.

I barely pay attention in Calculus for sixth, rolling over the events of the day in my mind. I'm so far lost in my dream-world by the end that the bell startles me enough to make me jump. I pack my things away in a daze, and make my way to the parking lot, unchaining my Cygnus and looking around at my now-fellow students. I catch sight of Toilet Brush with his cronies standing beside a monster truck that looks like it could fit my whole house in.

Our eyes meet across the huge expanse, and even from this distance I can see the glare he aims my way. I send one straight back, and he climbs into his car, revving the engine and wheel-spinning out of the parking lot.

_Mark my words, arsehole_, I promise. _I'm going to find a way to put you behind bars. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of making you squirm._

**Sorry about not updating sooner, guys. I've got no excuse because I've had the whole freakin' summer, but I've got other ideas spinning around in my head. Besides, you all know my tactic; I make things up as I go along, so I needed to get my bearings. I've got a plot now though, which is good XD. Anyway, review if you think it deserves it, and I'll try to update my other fanfics too.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


	3. A Good Plan

**Chapter 3: A good plan**

**Bella's POV**

So, yeah, after vowing to be the one to put Toilet Brush into a cell that he'll stay in for a very long time, I unchain my Cygnus, throwing a leg over one side and taking off out of the parking lot. On my way out, a silver Volvo toots at me, and I grin and wave at the flash of bronze hair behind the wheel. As I speed back home, I play back through the events of the day, marvelling at the idea that I already fit in really well with both the Cullens _**and**_ that group in homeroom. I might take Mike up on that offer of the wetsuits. Maybe I can apply for a job there…

I skid to a stop outside my dad's, not surprised to see the drive lacking any police cruiser; he's always working late hours. **(Don't shoot me for the house description, please. This is just how I first imagined it)**. The two-story house made of normal brick rises up with two windows on the bottom and one window on the top floor looking out front, the treated dark wooden door standing up proudly. I pull my Cygnus over to the attached garage to the right of the house, using my key to unlock and haul up the white metal door. I steer my Cygnus inside. The garage is my favourite place; for one, I can repair my bike when anything goes wrong (which is almost never, but I'm prepared anyway), and the roof also sits conveniently just outside my window. When I said I liked the garage, I never specified the _**inside**_; one of my favourite evening pastimes is sitting on the roof and watching the glorious stars, little pinpricks of beauty and hope in an otherwise bleak and smothering blanket. It's always fascinated me that in order to see these awesome wonders of light, you need to endure the dark. One cannot exist without the other. You can't fully experience the warmth of someone's love until you have been frozen by someone else's hate.

Sometimes, I amaze myself with my poetry.

With "Be creative and mushy" now ticked off my daily to-do list, I make my way into the house. The familiar woodsy, warm scent of my father welcomes me as I step into the corridor leading to the main section of the house. This hallway is only for the interior garage door. The soft brown hue of the wallpaper glows and brings as much light as possible to the narrow space, the smooth colour interrupted every so often with framed memories. The rich polished dark-wooden panels reach up halfway the wall and line it all the way to the bottom.

I emerge into the large room that counts for the kitchen, dining room and lounge altogether. The small kitchen area consists of a large moving-space in the centre, with the black countertop running around the walls of the section of the room, with the black built-in cooker directly opposite me, and the wooden cupboards following the countertop. To my left is the dining area, nearer the front of the house, by large windows overlooking the front yard. With the table pushed right up against the wall, it only seats three people, but Charlie never has more than that round anyway. Both sections of the room have white-tiled floor, for ease of cleaning up should any food be dropped. To the right, the modest lounge lies, the three-seater couch directly in front of the flatscreen TV, with the matching deep brown armchair to the right of it and sitting at a right-angle. Both seats face into a small oak-wood coffee table, which is half-covered with fishing magazines.

All this defines my father really well; warm, cosy, welcoming, and natural. And, of course, an avid fisherman.

After throwing my house keys in the metal leaf-shaped dish on the kitchen counter, I turn to the right, taking the stairs calmly up to my room. I do a left U-turn at the top, passing my dad's bedroom on the right, then the bathroom on the left, before reaching my own room at the end of the upstairs "corridor". Pushing the simple white door open, I sigh almost in relief as I step into one of my few sanctuaries.

Walking to the other side of the room, I let my bag drop onto my bed up against the back wall in the right corner, with the foot just under the window that leads to the roof of the garage. Turning around to open my white, mirrored-door wardrobe against the right wall, I loosen up my shoulders before shrugging out of my hoodie, hanging it in the railed half of the wardrobe.

And now, my favourite corner; the white corner-desk with my laptop and wireless broadband router, extensive space, and numerous black, white and red floating-shelves above, filled with carefully positioned fiction series like my favourites, _Skulduggery Pleasant_, and _Chicagoland Vampires_. **(Check them out; they're awesome.)**

I reach under the desk to flick the switch on the extension lead to turn on my laptop's power pack and reconnect my router, wondering if anyone has messaged me on Facebook for whatever reason.

_Hmm…I wonder if Edward has Facebook…_

I make a mental note to check it out when Facebook has loaded up before my phone startles me by ringing.

_Huh, usually people just text rather than call._

Studying the caller ID, I frown as it doesn't show up in my contacts.

_They could be Vodafone trying to sell some crap to me._

_Or it could be Charlie calling from a payphone as he's being chased by sadistic murderers that he had put behind bars a while ago…_

Unlikely, but I take my chances and answer it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Bella!" an excited voice chirps. "I was afraid you wouldn't pick up because you wouldn't recognise the number, but you did, so it's all great!"

Only one person can say something similar that happily, that fast and all in one breath. "Alice?"

"Uh huh; I thought we could get each other's numbers so we can communicate."

"How did you get mine?" I demand.

"Oh, you left your cellphone on the table at lunch, so I just picked it up and got the number because you've got your own number in your contacts in case you forget it," she says nonchalantly. "No biggie."

"So you stole my phone," I confirm, falling back onto my bed with my legs hanging off the edge.

"I stole your _**number**_," she corrects. "And you should thank me anyway; if I hadn't you wouldn't have got Edward's number."

I frown. "I don't _**have**_ Edward's number, Alice."

"You do, now; I've called you from Edward's cell."

"Huh?" I sit up straight, that fact somehow shooting adrenaline through my whole form. "Why are you using Edward's phone?"

Before Alice can answer, I hear Edward's voice on the other end of the line.

"Alice, if that's my phone you're talking down, so help me…"

"Here's Mr Grumpy now," Alice says to me. "He's just pissed off because I stole his phone once and prank-called one of his less-than-adequate ex-girlfriends and told her exactly what I thought of her…in Edward's voice."

I roar with laughter as I can imagine the whole thing playing out, and the consequences of her actions; Edward's confused face as Little Miss Bitch strides up and slaps him melodramatically and asks how he could break her heart.

"I still haven't actually thanked you for that yet, have I?" Edward surprisingly chuckles, much clearer now. I assume Alice has put me on speaker.

"Who are you talking to anyway?" Edward continues.

"I've put you on speaker, sweetie," Alice chirps, confirming my theory.

"Hey, Edward," I say, not sure what else to say.

The background sounds of shuffling and general (non-dirty) bedroom activities stop. "Bella?" I swear to God I can hear him smiling. But that's impossible, right?

"Yeah," I find myself smiling too, relishing in his voice. "Alice commandeered my phone at lunch and got my number."

"If I had been there at the time, I would have stopped her, I swear," Edward laughs.

"It's alright, I believe you," I join in. "But it's not too bad, because now I can talk to you all." I sincerely hope he doesn't hear the slightly pause in my voice after 'you'.

"Anyway, I have to go sort out my outfit for tomorrow," Alice says. "Oh, and do that Spanish presentation. I'll let you two talk…_**alone**_."

I can hear her smirk on the last word, and roll my eyes.

"Ha ha, Alice," Edward replies sarcastically, and a few seconds later I hear a door closing.

"So what are you up to?" I ask, making small talk.

"Oh, nothing," Edward replies as I hear some kind of tapping. "Just checking my Facebook before I finish the script for that Spanish speaking Alice was talking about." He snickers. "She hasn't even started it yet, and it's in for tomorrow."

_Ahh, so he _**does**_ have Facebook…_

"That sounds like her," I agree. "I need to add you on Facebook now."

"Oh, I was wondering if you had it," he replies. "I'll do it now."

A bit more tapping, then he speaks again. "What's your profile picture?"

I grin. "It's me on my Cygnus; my friend managed to get an action-shot of me jumping up the side of the half-pipe near my mom's house in Phoenix. I thought it was awesome, so I put it as my profile picture."

"Oh, yeah, I can see it," Edward says, laughing. "Yeah, that picture's pretty awesome."

"Facebook stalker," I tease.

"Nope," he retorts. "Just a guy with at least enough sense to appreciate an amazing view when he sees one."

I giggle shyly before I stop myself.

_Seriously? When do _**you**_ giggle? He probably thinks you're a loser now._

"What?" I can hear his smile again. "It's true." Then he stops, and starts stuttering adorably. "I mean, just ask any guy at school; I bet they'd say the same thing."

I decide to push the boundaries a bit. "But what about you, Edward? What do you think? I'm interested in your opinion." _Please don't say you were freaked out by my attempt at flirting, please don't say you were freaked out by my attempt at flirting…_

A beat of silence. "I'm very much in agreement with the male population of Forks High."

I smile at his lingual-selflessness. "Edward," I say quietly. "Say it in a way that doesn't involve other people. Say what _**you**_ want to, regardless of anyone else's opinion."

There's some shuffling on the other end of the line, and the sounds change again; Edward's taken me off speaker.

"I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met," he admits quietly.

Stunned into silence by the sincerity in what I ordinarily assume to be a corny and artificial pick-up line, I apparently stay silent too long for poor Edward's nerves.

"I can't believe I just said that," he says sadly. "That's just ruined things between us, hasn't it?"

I frown at his low self-esteem. "Edward," I call to him firmly. "You _**did**_ realise that I was staring at you all through our first meeting _**and**_ lunch, right?"

Edward makes a confused and startled noise. "Um…no?"

Imagining the look on his face, I have to laugh. "Wow, you're blind."

After a few seconds, I can hear him joining in, sounding much happier than he had a moment ago. A minute of comfortable and companiable silence follows before Edward speaks quietly:

"So, what now?"

Such a simple question, and yet it encompasses an entire world. 'What happens to us next? What has just changed for us? And what are we going to do about it?'

"Well," I answer casually. "We've both figured out and shared that we think the other one is hot." Edward chuckles at my slightly cruder method of summing up the last few minutes in contrast to Edward's previous eloquence.

"Let's just see where it takes us," I suggest. "Let's just let it develop into something on its own. Don't act different around each other, otherwise that defeats the object of being yourself."

Edward sighs softly. "That sounds like a good plan." I agree with him.

We talk about anything and everything for the next hour; the only reason we stop is my dad's headlights pulling into the drive. Telling Edward I have a duty to him too, he understands completely and hangs up.

The rest of the evening passes quietly; Charlie and I exist around each other in a bubble of mutual silence and understanding. We don't have to be _**doing**_ stuff together to know that the other loves us. After a dinner of ready-made macaroni and cheese – sadly, my lack of finesse with cooking comes from my dad, but hey; at least I used the hob instead of the microwave – and scarce of any mundane chit-chat, we go our separate ways again; him to the couch in front of the TV and me back up to my room after the dishes are washed and dried.

After a half-hearted effort at starting the English creative writing I was set, I'm just about to climb into bed when I receive a text. As I read it, I laugh quietly but cheerfully. It's from Edward:

'And yet another time when I must thank Alice for stealing my phone...Meddling little know-it-all pixie.'

**Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay – understatement – of the update. And many thanks to GallagherBlackthorneZammie for giving me the well-needed kick up the arse to start writing this again. Sorry this chapter may be shorter than my others, but I just wanted to get something up.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


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